Forever Unspoken
by AllenAdjacent
Summary: Arthur was born mute. As soon as he starts feeling that his life means nothing due to his inability to speak, his French co-worker finds a way to weasel his way into his heart. He soon realizes that there is more ways to communicate that with words that tumble from the mouth. (FrUK, human!AU)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Herro! I'm soooo sorry I haven't updated any of my stories in so long… I always have an idea and then I can't continue it, only being able to find another completely different one… But I swear, this story will continue. I already have the first (this one) and second chapter done. So, it's a FrUK fic, so for all you FrUKer's out there, enjoy!

-xxXXxx-

Shoes grazing the crumbly, rugged ground of rock beneath him, an Englishman could be found darting down the alleyway as quickly as he could without running. He seemed to be in a hurry, his slender fingers taut around the handle of his briefcase as he moved forward.

Rounding a corner, Arthur could have hissed at the sunlight that insisted on pouring onto his eyelids. 'Another sunny day in England,' he thought, 'this doesn't happen often, I'm surprised.'

Taking a sharp turn that led him to a door, the Briton took hold of the lukewarm doorknob, shifting it to the right, hearing all the springs and screws finding themselves another home as he pulled the door open. He soon housed himself inside the building, gently taking his flat cap from his head and relocating it into his bag.

He shot past his co-workers as if a savage beast was after him, quiet but expeditious. Finding himself at his cubicle, Arthur sighed in relief, glad that no one had stopped him to say hello. But he had relaxed to early, as he soon felt a light tap on his shoulder. Making a face to himself, the Briton turned around to see who he had hoped least to run into; Francis Bonnefoy, the flirtatious, frustrating Frenchman in which Arthur was convinced he moved to England just to irritate him.

"Bonjour, cher~ You are surely a sight for sore eyes," the other had greeted with, to Arthur's annoyance.

The only thing the Briton had replied with was a roll of his eyes. He could see he had confused the Frenchman for the slightest of moments, most likely due to the fact he had said nothing. He watched as he could see rememberance dawn upon the other man, a soft look of pity flashing upon his eyes. Arthur scoffed at this, leaving Francis with a surprised expression painting his features.

"Have you learned to read minds?" he questioned in an unbelieving tone. He must have known that the scoff was in reaction to his own pity for the other man.

Cocking an eyebrow, Arthur plastered a look of annoyed exasperation on his face, knowing that Francis was conscious of the answer somewhere inside of him. Francis knew that since he couldn't speak, that the Englishman had mastered the art of reading emotions through expressions, looks, and gestures.

It seemed to take him a little, but he knew the Frenchman understood the moment his eyes widened. Arthur could practically see the non-existent lightbulb appear above the other's head.

A light smile crossed upon Francis' lips. "Oh yes. I had almost forgotten," he answered in a soft tone of voice.

All was quiet for an extended period of time, Arthur beholding a blank expression while the Frenchman wore a genuinely happy one.

Francis was the one to break the silence. "Well, I best be going, the boss will yell at me soon if I don't get back to work."

The Briton nodded in a knowing gesture, remembering that he had work to attend to, also.

"I'll be on my way, then. I hope you don't miss me too much, mon cher!"

Arthur covered his face in sheer embarrassment at those words, such familiar words, a low rumble growing in the back of his throat. Shaking it off, he soon began to make himself comfortable, stripping his coat off and situating his bag on the ground under his desk.

Powering on the desktop computer, he waited as patiently as he could for it to find itself at the home screen. Fingers flying in a flurry across the keyboard, he opened his emails to check what newspaper articles he had to edit for today. He found a copious amount stockpiled on the screen as soon as it had loaded. Arthur sighed, wanting to bang his head on his desk as hard as he could. 'May as well not dwell on it and get to work,' he thought with annoyance, checking the first email.

It was headed with bold, dark words, a smaller font underneath with a picture or two framing it. Opening it in his documents, he read it over. It seemed to be part of the sports section, as it was speaking of a local travel football team that had won the tourney they had their hearts set on winning. He skimmed through for any spelling and grammatical mistakes, changing some parts of it for a more plausible explanation or word choice. The writer had seemed to miss a few places that required commas or semicolons, which was quickly fixed by the blonde editor. Reading the small paragraphs over once again, he deemed the story ready for the outside world. Taking the edited piece and copying it all, he pasted it back into a new email and shared it with the publisher.

That was only one of many articles he had to examine. Arthur sighed, knowing it would be a very long day from there on out.

-xxXXxx-

Nine hours.

It had been _nine hours_ since he had checked in this morning at eleven thirty.

Arthur was absolutely exhausted.

Many workers and visitors had came and gone from them to now. And, at eight thirty-three, here Arthur was, still working on editing pages.

He was just about to give up.

The Briton had worked on more articles than he could possibly count individually. Well over thirty, he knew that. He wasn't _that_ slow at working. He could feel the stiffness of his fingers, cold and blue from the lack of sympathy they had received through such treatment. They felt as though they were just about to fall off.

And to make things worse, his French co-worker would not stop nagging him to go out for a drink or two.

Arthur grumbled as Francis asked him once again. His answer was a fierce glare, followed by a series of head-shakes. He could hear the other's overdramatic sigh over the prominent yet slowing keyboard clicks.

"Come on, Arthur. You have been working at those articles non-stop since you came in. Don't you do anything other than work?" the Frenchman challenged with a bob of his head.

Turning his head slowly towards Francis, Arthur's eyes were void of emotion, bloodshot as if he hadn't closed his eyes through the whole session. With one deathly glare, he turned back to his computer screen, typing away as he resumed editing a technology article.

Francis sighed. bending down from his standing stance to reach Arthur's height, the Frenchman grabbed the Briton's chin from it's position with his thumb and forefinger, jutting it to the side to face him. Before Arthur could growl frustratedly at him, Francis spoke.

"Arthur. Just face the fact that you are exhausted. You can finish your precious work tomorrow. But for now, please give it a rest. I won't even take you to the bar, I'll just drive you right home. Please, cher, you are worrying me."

The Briton was about to shoot a defiant glare back at the Frenchman, but the look died in the making as he saw the pleading expression on the other's face. Faltering altogether, Arthur looked away, anywhere but his co-worker. Silently, he closed down the program on his computer and grabbed his bag along with his coat, not daring to peer back into Francis' amethyst eyes as he stood up. He could already tell that the other was smiling like a maniac.

Leading the way, the Frenchman opened the door for Arthur, getting nothing in reply as the Englishman whisked by him. A soft smile was stuck on Francis' face as the Brit acted in such a way. He loved it when he turned the other into such a tight ball of hidden emotion.

Following behind Arthur's brisk pace, he was about to point the other into the right direction, but before he could do so, the Briton had found the correct car and lodged himself into the passenger seat, Francis popping into the driver's seat shortly after.

Pushing the keys into the ignition, Arthur watched as the other began driving onto the open road, barely even one car in sight on the slim road. Knowing that it would take at least over twenty minutes to arrive at their destination, the Briton placed his elbow on the armrest to his right, preparing himself for a tedious ride.

-xxXXxx-

Arthur could remember when they had arrived at his flat. He could just barely remember hearing the closing of his car door on the left of the vehicle, the scarcely there feeling of something soft beneath his back as he was lifted from his seat.

Now, the Briton's eyes were just barely open. He just barely recognized the roof of his apartment, the cream stained texture always welcoming to him. But, what he noticed more prominently over all was the fact he was being held. positioning his head in a more feasible position, he found that it was none other than Francis that had been holding him. Arthur was about to make a noise before the other had cut him off.

"Shh, I'm only here to get you to bed," the Frenchman stated in a hushed voice. "Stay asleep, you need rest for tomorrow. You deserve it."

Closing his eyes once again, the last thing that Arthur could remember was the soft feeling of his homely bedspread beneath his back, the warmth of the covers engulfing him in what felt like a gentle hug. After that, all the Briton had experienced was the much needed feel of slumber.

-xxXXxx-

A/N: Soooo yeah. If you couldn't tell already, or didn't read the summary, Arthur is a mute. How was the first chapter? I hope you all like where I'm going with this, even if it's not too clear yet. Reviews are nice, and so are favourites and follows. They aren't mandatory, but are more than welcome!

And yes, since this is set in England, football is known as soccer in America, and the driver's side is on the right, not the left. ^^

 _~Ryuka_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Herro! See, I TOLD you I would be back with a second chapter! And so soon, too... This must be a new record for me! Well, I hope you enjoy! This chapter is a bit more angsty, just a fair warning, I guess. On to the story!

-xxXXxx-

Arthur had woken up from nothing in particular. But, he had some extra time until work, so he stayed put in his position in bed, staring at the ceiling. The topic of his silence was brought up in his mind, to his own displeasure.

'Why was I born mute?' he wondered, 'Did god just despise me, and make me unable to talk or hear my own words?'

The Briton sighed. 'Or maybe I just wasn't meant to be put on this earth, and to punish me, I was made mute... Oh, so many possibilities. All of them resulting in me being useless to this world. What is a mute man even supposed to do? Stay as a lowly editor forever? It's not like it's possible to talk without speaking... As I said, I'm clearly useless to this world.'

Arthur's negative thoughts had put him into some sort of depressed mode. He slumped out of bed and trudged to all of his destinations he had to make before going to work; the bathroom, the closet, the kitchen and the door.

Even though he had quite a good sleep last night, his eyes sagged as if he hadn't gotten a good rest in weeks. He was glad that just about no one knew him in his building, as he had no tolerance to talk to any of them.

Barely even noticing, Arthur found himself at the bus stop, throwing his money into the cup of change so that he could ride. He found an empty seat and lodged himself there, unmoving and unmotivated. It was going to be a long day at work today.

When he arrived at his destination, the Englishman had no thought in his mind of even remotely looking at anyone on the path to his cubicle. Lucky for him, everyone stayed away, as they seemed to be able to sense the mood. Except for one.

"What has happened to you, mon cher? It looks like you haven't gotten a good sleep for one day in your life! Did you stay up last night?"

Eyeing the Frenchman, he narrowed his eyebrows. He had no time for this. Sitting down, he got to work. Francis seemed to notice he wasn't exactly in the conversation mood after that. Meaning that he got to work, too.

-xxXXxx-

Nearly slamming the doors of his workplace, the Briton set a brisk pace of walking, nearly flying down the sidewalk. He had to get away. He had to get away from his life. He had endured 24 years of silence because he thought it would get better. But it hadn't. Nothing had gotten better. For anything, everything had gotten worse.

Arthur had no idea where he was going. But that didn't matter. As long as it was a place where he could lose himself in peace.

He had no idea how long he had been walking, but after what felt like a countless amount of minutes, the Englishman arrived at a crumbly cliff. Sighing, he sat down in front of it. Before he did anything, he had to think about it.

'I have no family. I have no friends. No one cares enough about me to even bother to converse with me. My job could easily be replaced.'

That just about did it for Arthur. But no matter how useless he made himself sound, there was still a part of him that wanted to stay longer. That wanted to see what was in store. That wanted to live.

He broke down.

The Englishman was on his knees, his forehead digging into the ground. Making a loud groan, he smashed his fist against the ground. His body was screaming in protest for him to stop. He could already feel the searing pain of an open cut on his hand, rocks and dust lining it. But he didn't care. He needed relief. And if it wasn't going to be dying, the least he could do was punish himself.

When Arthur was finished with himself, he slowly staggered onto his feet and wiped himself clean of the rocks and rubble that stuck to him. He felt even more useless than ever after this. Apparently nothing could fill the void that had grown in his soul since he started thinking about his inability to speak.

Every step of the way to his house was painful. It was his head throbbing, his knees shaking, his leg giving out under him, his hand pulsing. And on top off that, the bleeding wasn't stopping. The crimson liquid was still streaming from all the cuts he had created along his body. The only thing that could make this worse was running into someone. And even though he didn't want to jinx it, he knew that this was the way Francis got home.

Every breath he took, he felt weaker. Soon, he was tripping, soon he was almost collapsing. But that didn't last long, no. What did last long, though, was his inability to see, move, hear and feel. He had blacked out.

-xxXXxx-

Arthur didn't know when he woke up. All he knew is that he had a different scenery; a cocoa brown painted the roof he was staring at, light circle designs coating over it. In an instant, he knew where he was, and frankly, he was quite annoyed about it. Well, at least he could relax, knowing that he wasn't in a complete stranger's house. He still had to think about how much time had passed, though. It couldn't have possibly been over an hour… Could it?

When the sound of movement was heard, the Briton quickly positioned his eyes to face the creator of the noise, finding none other than Francis with a coffee linked in his fingers.

At the sight of Arthur being awake, it looked like he nearly dropped it.

A smile lit up upon the Frenchman's face. "Mon cher, you're awake!" he exclaimed, shuffling closer to the injured man, as to not spill his beverage.

Arthur nodded slightly. Looking around the room for a moment, a confused expressing popped on his face and he lifted his wrist and tapped it.

Francis' head fell to the side for a slight moment. "The time? Oh, well it's about 7:00…"

The Briton's eyes widened slightly. Had he really been out for a half hour? Well, he was at least grateful it hadn't been more.

After a moment of silence, Francis' facial expression changed from joy to worry. In a hushed voice, he asked, "What were you doing, cher? I found you unconscious on the ground, you were bleeding everywhere, I had to wrap up your hand and leg and patch up your head-"

Arthur cut him off by placing his good hand over the Frenchman's mouth. At times like this, he really wished he could speak. But sadly, he couldn't. He had to make use of what he had. Side glancing the bedside table to the left of him, he found a notepad with a pen right next to it. Grabbing it from his spot, he began scribbling down words on the page, Francis watching him while he did so.

When he was finally done, he turned it towards the other for him to read. Annoyingly enough to the Briton, he read it out loud.

"Do you even know the extent of how hard it is to be mute? I just had to relieve myself. So I went to the old motocross pit, and did so."

Arthur had purposefully left out the part of him contemplating killing himself. He didn't want his co-worker to think he was suicidal or had problems. That would just make things much harder.

Francis didn't say a word, but his expressions showed all. He looked torn, filled with even more worry than before. In one swift movement, Arthur was pulled into a breathtaking hug by the other. He didn't know what to do. He felt sadness welling up inside of himself, though he couldn't put his finger on why. 'This damn Frog messes with my emotions way too much to be considered normal...'

"I'm sorry," the Briton could hear Francis say in a hoarse voice. "I'm so sorry. I really wish I understood." He pulled back to face Arthur. "I want you to help me understand."

The Englishman had no idea how to react. Would having someone who understood really help? Well, it certainly would be better than loneliness. If he had Francis... No matter how much he tried to say he disliked him with his whole heart, at the end of the day, he knew he had a soft spot for him. Barely even noticing, he began nodding his head. The look on the Frenchman's face made his day.

Out of the blue, Francis asked, "would you try to stop me if I said I want to kiss you?"

Pausing, Arthur thought about this. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, his heart skipping a beat.

The Briton made no clear reply. Francis took it upon himself to kiss him, anyways.

The kiss, to Arthur, felt like the most comforting thing he had ever felt. Warmth spread throughout his body and he felt as if he was weightless, invincible, able to do anything. He felt as though he could even talk if he wanted, even though he knew deep down that he couldn't. But, in this moment, he didn't care. All he knew is that he was with the one he knew he loved. Even if there was no way he would admit it at this point.

The kiss was kept chaste, much to the Briton's relief. He was quite unstable at the moment, only just waking up from unconsciousness mere minutes ago. If they had gone any further, Arthur was convinced he would have passed out. When they parted, he instantly looked away in embarrassment, a light pink tone coating his face. That expression was one of Francis' greatest pleasures in life.

Glancing over at the clock, he figured that the other would probably be hungry, as he had not seen him eat since he came in.

Smiling, Francis tilted Arthur's head up to look at him. "I'm going to make us some food, you must be starving."

Nodding quickly, Francis chuckled, getting up from his seat and traveling to the kitchen to create whatever his heart desired.

-xxXXxx-

The food Francis had made was delicious. It had been spaghetti with a lovely tomato sauce drizzled on top, along with mashed potatoes for a side, the beverage being a fine French red wine.

They both had finished their food quickly, Arthur being the one to finish first due to having destroyed it like a savage beast. The Frenchman couldn't have helped but laugh at that moment.

Now, after hours of talking and such casually and occasionally spouting (or expressing, in Arthur's case) insults at each other, the two found themselves exhausted, the Briton especially. Since Francis only owned one bed, a queen sized, Arthur was inwardly freaking out about the situation. Would they have to sleep together? What if he moved too much? What if he woke the Frenchman up?

All of his thoughts were soon put to a halt when the other spoke. "Well, ah, since I only have one bed, I guess... I'll be sleeping on the couch. You can sleep on the bed."

As soon as he began setting up the couch, the Englishman stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head side-to-side, gesturing shyly with his hand towards the bed.

"But, mon cher, wouldn't it bother you to have someone sleeping with you?"

Pausing for a bit, he shook his head once again. It wasn't right for Francis to sleep on the couch in his own home while Arthur took up the whole bed. No matter how much his mind was yelling at him to let the other sleep on the couch.

A light smile playing on his lips, Francis chuckled softly. "Well, if you insist, Arthur."

Hearing his name roll off the Frenchman's tongue was a rare thing to hear. It made Arthur stop for a second, a soft blush claiming his cheeks. He thanked the lord that the other man had already turned away by that moment. He felt indifferent about his saying his name.

Francis handed him some clothes to change into, as to which he took and put them on in the bathroom. When he looked at himself in the mirror, _that_ was when he blushed properly.

He had been given a shirt with the French flag along with the Eiffel tower on it. That was enough to explain how Arthur felt.

Walking out casually, the Briton quickly took his place on the left side of the bed, groaning when he found a part of his back that he had clearly injured in his fit of self-hatred.

To this, Francis frowned. Hugging him softly from behind, he whispered into his ear, "Good night, Arthur." As quickly as it happened, the warmth was gone.

As the Briton began drifting off to sleep, he was left with one thought in mind:

 _Yeah, I do like how my name sounds coming from him._

-xxXXxx-

A/N: Crappy ending is crappy. Sorry author is sorry. Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter! It is a little bit on the long side, which I am kind of proud of. But I think there is something you all should be proud of me for: Getting two chapters up within 24 hours of each other! Hooray! Hopefully I can try to do the same with the upcoming chapter, but I don't know. I need some time to think about what is going to happen. Remember, reviews are nice, and so are favourites and follows, but they aren't mandatory. I hope you guys liked this chapter!

 _~Ryuka_


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